457.9 


V 

Si- 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THOMAS  BOUNDY. 


IBERTY'S  MARTYR 

A  POEM 
In  Eight  Cantos, 

BY 
THOMAS  BOUNDY. 


HUustratefc, 


:Tis  to  the  man  and  the  man's  honest  worth 

The  nation's  loyalty  in  tears  npsprings. 
Through  him  the  soil  of  labor  shines  henceforth 

High  o'er  the  silken  broideries  of  kings. 
Horn  of  the  people,  well  he  knew  to  grasp 

The  wants  and  wishes  of  the  weak  and  small; 
Therefore  we  hold  him  with  no  shadowy  clasp; 

Therefore  his  name  is  household  to  us  all. 

— Alice  Gary. 


jfiret  E&ttkm. 


JEKMYN,   PA. 

THE  PRESS  PRINTING  OFFICE. 

1897. 


COPYRIGHT  1897 

BY 

THOMAS  BOUNDY. 


Synopsis. 


Canto  i. — A  slave  auction  in  New  Orleans. 
One  of  the  slaves  sees  in  a  vision  Justice  with  her 
flashing  sword,  the  future  president  and  Komi- 
men's  friend,  as  well  as  the  principal  event-iof  the 
war.  Her  vision  rudely  ended,  she  hears  that 
memorable  utterance,  "If  ever  1  get  a  chance  to 
hit  that  thing  I'll  hit  it  hard."  She  turns  and 
recognizes  the  speaker  as  the  central  f^uie  cf 
her  vision,  Abraham  Lincoln. 

Canto  2. — The  events  immediately  preceding 
and  surrounding  Lincoln's  inauguration.  The 
substance  of  his  inaugural  address. 

Canto  3. — The  task  the  new  president  unc'e;- 
took.  The  storming  of  Fort  Sumter. 

Canto  4. — The  battle  of  Bull  Run.  "Stone- 
wall" Jackson's  bravery  and  how  it  turned  the 
tide  of  battle.  Lincoln's  calmness  and  ccol  judg- 
ment under  disaster. 


75942O 


Canto  5.  A  description  of  the  engagement 
between  the  Merrimac  and  Monitor.  The  joy 
that  resulted  from  the  latter's  victory. 

Canto  0.  The  bondmen  s  wail,  "How  long. 
()  Lord!  how  long?"  The  hour  of  crisis  and  the 
act  of  emancipation.  How  the  slaves  received 
the  news  and  subsequently  their  freedom. 

Canto  7.  -Complaints  of  slowness  in  the  pro- 
secution of  the  war.  The  joint  action  of  Grant 
aml''S'herman.  The  end  of  the  war.  President 
Lincoln's  enthusiastic  reception  in  Richmond  by 
the  liberated  slaves. 

.     •  •  :• 

,  Canto  «S.  Anothqr  vision  of  Justice.  Her 
sword  still  Hashing.  Intercession  of  the  heavenly 
hosts.  The  final  blow— .Lincoln's  death — and  how 
the  nation  received  it.  Justice  sheathes  her 
sword. 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 

From  a  photograph  owneil  l>y  Mr.  Xo;ih  Brooks  an.-l  ivpr.xluced  haiv  l»y  his  i*»r.nission. 


*[  LIBERTY'S 

MARTYR 

Canto  the  First. 


Hbrabam  Xincoln  at  a  Slave  auction. 


§WAS  in  a  city  'neath  a  southern  sky, 
Where  Mississippi  rolls  in  grandeur  by; 
Gxfi    A  city  fanned  by  breezes  from  the  sea, 
Where  graceful  naiads  may  have  wandered  free; 
To  which  Narcissus  might  with  eager  stride 
Have  sped  to  stand  its  glassy  pools  beside— 
Observant  not  that  all  around  was  fair 
As  his  resplendent  form  reflected  there— 
And  lay  his  form  ethereal  down  to  rest, 
To  pine  and  die  on  nature's  healthful  breast; 


JO  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

A  city  which  the  fair  Euphrosyne, 
The  gods  of  beauty  and  of  harmony, 
Might  have  selected  for  their  festive  hall, 
But  for  the  blight  that  held  a  race  in  thrall. 

An  open  mart,  a  miscellaneous  crowd, 
An  auctioneer  whose  voice  was  harsh  and  loud; 
His  wares  were  human  bodies,  and  the  first 
A  splendid  sample  of  the  race  accursed. 
He  stepped  upon  a  block  and  faced  the  throng, 
A  man  of  muscle,  massive,  lithe  and  strong; 
No  common  frame  was  his,  those  limbs  of  oak 
Could  slay  a  common  mortal  at  a  stroke. 
And  yet  he  meekly  stood  and  heard  his  price 
Leap  from  small  sums  to  thousands  in  a  trice. 
The  hammer  fell;  and  thus  for  sordid  gold 
A  man  unto  his  fellow  man  was  sold. 

He  stepped  aside,  a  youngster  took  his  place— 
The  strong  man's  son — a  boy  with  chubby  face 
And  laughing  eyes.     But  see!  a  tearful  cloud 
Dimmed  them  the  moment  that  he  faced  the  crowd; 
Confused,  he  gazed,  then  sought  his  mother's  face, 


CANTO  THE  FIRST.  \\ 

And  the  next  moment  rushed  to  her  embrace. 
O,  cruel  laugh!     O,  worse  than  cruel  heart! 
Their  ruthless  owner  tore  the  twain  apart. 
He  never  dreamed  that  e'en  a  seraph  might 
Have  gazed  with  rapture  on  that  lovely  sight; 
He  wanted  dollars,  and  for  dollars  then 
He  placed  the  youngster  on  the  block  again, 
And  sold  him,  too,  that  child  of  tender  years, 
A  quivering  little  mass  of  sobs  and  tears. 

Next    came    the    mother. How     her    bosom 

heaved!— 

Of  husband  now  and  baby,  too,  bereaved, 
She  stood  a  victim  of  the  nation's  sin; 
Her  wandering  sense  heard  not  the  buyers'  din; 
Her  one  request,  enforced  with  suppliant  tone 
And  streaming  tears,  moved  not  their  hearts  of 

stone. 

Yet  all  she  asked  was  but  the  paltry  joy 
To  serve  the  planter  who  had  bought  her  boy. 
Again  the  hammer  fell;  she  raised  her  eyes, 
Glanced  at  her  buyer,  then  upward  to  the  skies 


12  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

She  sent  a  mute  appeal.     An  angel  there 
Marked  well  the  fervor  of  that  silent  prayer, 
And  poured  into  her  soul  a  flood  of  light 
And  then  unfolded  to  her  inward  sight- 
Stern  Justice,  standing  with  uplifted  hand 
And  flashing  sword,  about  to  smite  the  land. 
She  saw  a  man  men  named  The  Bondmen's  Friend 
Around  him  gather  armies  without  end; 
She  saw  war's  fearful  chances  bravely  faced; 
Homes,  towns  and  cities  wickedly  laid  waste; 
Gaunt  famine  reigning,  while  on  every  plain 
A  hundred  thousand  gallant  men  lay  slain. 
At  last  she  saw  the  dreadful  havoc  cease; 
She  heard  the  proclamation  of  a  peace; 
She  heard  the  land  rejoice  from  sea  to  sea, 
And  then  she  knew  the  slave  was  free — was  free! 

A  shock  aroused  her;  'twas  a  cruel  hand 
That  rudely  pulled  her  from  the  salesman's  stand; 
But  as  her  buyer  pushed  her  through  the  crowd 
She  heard  a  voice — 'twas  only  half  aloud, 
Though  fraught  with  pathos,  anger  ill  concealed,— 
"My  God!  if  ever  in  a  future  field 


Dratrn  by  R.  H.  Martin. 

A  SPLENDID  SAMPLE  OF  THE  RACE  ACCURSED. 


CANTO  THE  FIRST.  J5 

I  have  a  chance  to  hit  this  cursed  thing 
I'll  hit  it  hard!" 

A  strange,  prophetic  ring 

Lingered  like  music  round  each  fateful  word; 
A  sympathetic  chord  the  woman  stirred; 
To  greet  the  owner  of  that  God-sent  voice, 
Destined  to  make  the  colored  race  rejoice, 
She  let  her  vision  to  his  face  ascend— 
Ah!  blessed  sight!  there   stood    The    Bondmen's 
Friend. 


CABIN   IN   WHICH  LINCOLN   WAS  BGEX. 


Canto  the  Second 


Lincoln's  Inauguration. 


'EARS,  heavy  laden,  slowly  rolled  away, 
<£f?  Each  year  unfolding  such  a  dread  array 

^  Of  signs  portentous  that  few  thinkers  failed 
To  read  their  meaning.     Then  wrong-doers  quailed 
As  in  the  louring  sky,  o'erspread  with  gloom, 
There  flashed  a  thirsty  sword,  the  coming  doom 
Of  those  oppressors  who  for  greed  of  gain  — 
Regardless  of  the  life  destroying  pain 
Their  victims  felt — enslaved  their  fellow  man, 
And  thus  delayed  the  grand  eternal  plan— 
God-sent  and  Gocl-ordained— that  this  great  land 
Peerless  upon  the  earth  shall  always  stand; 


CANTO  THE  SECOND.  17 

Shall  yield  its  sceptre  unto  Truth  alone, 
While  Liberty  from  her  exalted  throne 
Shall  flash  the  tidings  overland  and  sea 
That  here,  if  nowhere  else,  all  men  are  free. 

Silent  and  haggard  sat  The  Bondmen's  Friend, 
As  through  long  vistas — seeming  without  end— 
Of  coming  woes  he  sought  with  eager  eyes 
Some  method  God  or  angels  might  devise 
By  which  the  nation,  now  on  war's  dread  brink, 
Might  yet  escape,  nor  be  compelled  to  drink 
That  bitter  draught  which  all  transgressors  must 
Drain  to  its  dregs  and  own  the  fiat  just. 

The  quest  was  vain;  nor  God  nor  angels  deigned 
To  grant  such  hope.     Then  Lincoln's  heart  was 

pained 

That  war  must  be;  but  since 'twas  heaven's  decree, 
The  future  ruler  bent  submissive  knee. 
"I  know,"  said  he,  "that  liberty  is  right; 
Christ  teaches  that,  and  Christ  is  God,  and  God's 

my  might." 


18  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

Then  were  the  nation's  eyes  on  Lincoln  turned, 
And  twice  ten  million  hearts  for  Lincoln  burned. 
His  was  the  hand  they  long  had  wished  to  find; 
His  was  the  counsel,  his  the  strength  of  mind, 
To  guide  the  ardent  wills  of  loyal  crowds 
To  heights  of  honor  up  through  turmoil's  clouds. 
Thus,  when  he  left  his  humble  western  home; 
His  goal  the  nation's  fairest,  proudest  dome; 
The  woodmen  came  from  forests  far  and  near. 
And  farmers  left  their  plows  to  raise  a  cheer; 
The  artisans  forsook  their  daily  art, 
And  merchants  poured  from  every  bank  and  mart 
To  greet  with  loud  huzzas  and  stirring  song 
The  country's  saviour  as  he  rode  along. 

( )ppression's  champions  heard  these  gladsome 

songs; 

They  saw  the  vast  and  still  increasing  throngs 
Who  based  their  every  hope  on  Lincoln's  word, 
And  then  with  hatred  deep,  by  folly  stirred, 
They  laid  their  dark  designs  and  swore  that  he— 
The  man  who  thought  and  taught  that  all  are  free 
By  moral  laws,  the  man  who  dared  to  say 


M      *- 

3  o 

m    O 


3    CO 

o    — 


CO   g 
CO    > 


0    I 


CANTO  THE  SECOND.  2J 

That  state  from  state  can  never  break  away— 
Should  never  take  the  presidential  oath. 
No;  they  would  hire  the  dirk  and  pistol  both, 
And  fill  with  gold  a  blood-bespattered  hand 
To  lay  in  death  this  menace  to  the  land. 

As  well  might  worms  defy  a  tidal  wave; 
Or  dying  mortals  mock  the  yawning  grave; 
Worms,  men  and  nations  bow  to  God's  behest; 
His  will  endures,  and  what  he  wills  is  best. 

Apprised  of  danger,  Lincoln's  friends  withdrew 
Their  modest  pageant  and  their  heralds,  too. 
Their  prudence  ruled  that  though  he  courted  light, 
His  safest  route  were  traversed  best  at  night. 
"Fwas  thus  they  bore  through  darkened  fields  and 

glades, 

With  prudent  speed,  their  hero  and  his  aids. 
And  though  conspirators  were  all  alert 
To  d°  their  truest  friend  a  deadly  hurt, 
Inauguration  Day  saw  Lincoln  stand 
The  most  conspicuous  man  in  all  the  land. 


22  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

Most  fateful  hour  the  nation  ever  knew! 
The  far  off  nations  felt  its  import,  too; 
And  though  the  gathered  crowds  would  fain  be 

glad, 

A  single  glance  into  that  face   so  sad 
All  joyful  demonstrations  soon  allayed, 
And  brilliant  statesmen    bowed    their    heads  and 

prayed- 

Prayed  that  the  man  who  now  before  them  stood, 
Their  future  guide,  might  be  both  wise  and  good; 
For  though  they  felt  that  God's  avenging  hand 
Would  shortly  fall  on  this  misguided  land, 
They  hoped  that  virtue  at  the  throne  of  grace 
Might  ward  the  tribulation  off  a  space. 

Why  was  he  sad,  that  man  of  giant  form? 
Did  his  enlightened  soul  discern  the  storm 
That  like  a  sullen,  vengeance-laden  cloud- 
Destined  to  humble  men,  however  proud— 
Would  shortly  burst?     None  but  Jehovah  knows. 
Sad  though  he  was,  before  both  friends  and  foes 
He  faltered  not  to  give  the  world  his  creed. 
Conscious  of  inborn  strength,  he  saw  the  need 


CANTO  THE  SECOND.  23 

Of  no  vainglorious  words  nor  taunting  boasts; 
His  strength  was  centered  on  the  Lord  of  Hosts. 

"Friends,  fellow  citizens,"  said  Lincoln  then, 
"No  brotherhood  composed  of  sensate  men, 
If  bound  together  'neath  one  common  seal, 
Its  only  bond  in  life  the  common  weal, 
Has  ever  made  provision  for  its  end; 
Nor  can  the  wishes  of  a  part  transcend 
The  compact  made  by  all.     The  bond  once  made 
Must  stand  for  ever.     Be  not,  then,  dismayed; 
Our  Union  stands  unbroken;  still  shall  be; 
Unless  the  power  this  day  intrusted  me 
Be  taken  from  me  by  the  spoken  will 
Of  you,  my  rightful  masters.     But  until 
That  hour,  of  which  I  see  no  tangent  sign, 
This  simple  line  of  duty  shall  be  mine: 
To  occupy  and  hold,  wherever  found, 
The  nation's  property  and  then  surround 
The  same    with    needful    strength. — Perchance    it 

may 

Need  more  than  passive  strength. — Now  let  me  say 
To  you,  my  fellow  countrymen,  who  chafe  and  fret, 


24  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

We  are  not  foes,  we  meet  as  brethren  yet. 
The  bonds  of  love  in  which  we  all  were  trained, 
By  foolish  passions  may  be  somewhat  strained; 
But  break  they  must  not.     Doth  not  memory  yield 
The  sacred  cords  that  from  each  battle-field 
And  patriot  grave  reach  every  heart  and  home, 
Where'er  on  this  broad  land  our  brethren  roam? 
Touched  by  our  better  natures,  these  shall  swell 
The  chorus  of  the  Union  till  the  knell 
Of  dying  nations  ushers  in  the  day 
When  earth  and  heaven  in  chaos  pass  away." 

His  earnest  words  burned  deep;  yea,  they  did 

more; 

They  winged  their  way  to  every  Christian  shore, 
Where  monarchs  reigned  beneath  imperial  domes, 
And  legislators  sat  in  princely  homes. 
Men  skilled  in  statecraft,  stratagem  and  guile, 
Men  who  could  look  on  war  and  blandly  smile, 
By  intuition  knew  that  Lincoln  stood 
Their  peer  in  greatness,  that  their  noble  blood 
And  princely  training  paled  beside  the  light 


CANTO  THE  SECOND.  25 

f^    ' 

Of  this  rough  nobleman  whose  simple  might 
And  inborn  power  to  rule  without  deceit 
No  foe  might  combat  and  escape  defeat. 

Then,  with  his  country's  flag  around  unfurled, 
In  presence  of  his  God  and  all  the  world, 
Without  intent  from  duty's  path  to  swerve, 
Did  Lincoln  swear  to  faithfully  preserve, 
Protect,  defend,  as  God  might  give  him  light, 
The  Constitution  and  the  people's  right. 

Thus  closed  the  simple  but  impressive  rite; 
And  when  beneath  the  shades  of  restful  night 
The  nation's  toilers  gathered  round  the  board 
The  story-tellers  drew  upon  their  hoard 
Of  well  selected  tales.     The  children  all, 
In  woodman's  hut,  in  sumptuous,  gilded  hall, 
With  eager  ears  drank  in  the  wondrous  tale 
Of  Lincoln's  youth;  heard  how  when  young   and 

hale 

He  felled  the  sturdy  pines;  that  by  the  light 
Of  flickering  fires  that  burned  the  livelong  night 


26  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

He  studied  hard  and  filled  his  mind  with  lore, 
And  still  he  studied  to  increase  the  store; 
Till,  armed  at  every  point,  he  sallied  forth 
And  championed  freedon.     Then  the  South  and 

North, 

The  East  and  West  soon  heard  of  Lincoln's  name, 
And  knew  a  giant  mind  was  born  to  fame. 


Canto  the  Third 


Lincoln's  first  Call  jfor  Groops. 

O,  ASK  a  man  to  buoy  a  sinking  ship; 
To  quench  a  forest  fire;  or  with  a  grip 
Of  human  hand  to  lay  a  lion  low; 

Ask  him  to  reap  where  brave  men  dare  not  sow; 

To  build  a  lighthouse  on  a  shifting  sand; 

To  gird  the  round  world  with  an  iron  band; 

These  tasks  were  small,  their  burden  light  as  air; 

Nor  could  the  lot  combined  in  weight  compare 

With  that  which  Lincoln  —  not  one  whit  appalled  — 

Took  on  his  shoulders  when  his  country  called. 


28  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

The  point  which  others  aimed  at  as  their  goal, 
And  in  the  winning  threw  their  heart  and  soul, 
\Vas  but  the  point  where  Lincoln's  task  began. 
There,  line  by  line,  was  God's  eternal  plan 
With  steadfast,  trusting  hand  by  him  unfurled, 
Though   hostile  forces   round   him    stormed   and 
swirled. 

The  Dred-Scott  case  decision  had  called  forth 
A  wide-spread   storm    of   wrath   throughout   the 

North; 
John  Brown's  mad  raid  had  roused  the  Southern 

ire, 

The  fancied  insult  set  men's  souls  afire; 
A  weakling  filled  the  presidential  chair, 
Supineness  marked  his  every  action  there; 
Traitors  in  Congress  sat  and  talked  with  guile 
And  stole  the  nation's  arms  and  wealth  the  while; 
Secession's  rumors  filled  the  North  with  fear, 
And  wild  alarmists  turned  the  public  ear 
To  those  who  saw  in  ea,ch  event  a  sign 
Of  this  proud  nation's  ruin  and  decline. 


CANTO  THE  THIRD.  29 

No  piles  of  bullion  had  the  nation  stored; 
Her  richest  merchants  held  no  bursting  hoard; 
Xo  ships    of  war  patrolled  the  bounding  sea 
To  guard  and  keep  her  ports  to  commerce  free. 
Her  soldiers  all,  for  ruthless  war  untrained, 
Each  at  his  home  an  honest  living  gained. 

Already  had  the  rebel  yell  been  heard, 
And  Anderson  at  Sumter  had  been  stirred 
To  promptitude  and  warlike  actions,  too; 
His  energetic  spirit  saw  and  knew 
That  all  around  intriguers  laid  their  snares, 
And  schemed  to  take  Fort  Sumter  unawares. 
But  still  the  people  of  the  North  forebore 
To  think  a  cruel  war  was  nigh;  nay,  more, 
They  hoped  that  wisdom  would  at  once  prevail, 
And  schemes  for  separation  promptly  fail. 

The  day,  the  fateful  day,  drew  nigh  at  last 
When  South  to  North  her  gauntlet  wildly  cast; 
When  Beauregard  his  primal  shot  sent  forth 
And  thrilled  the  trustful  spirits  of  the  North. 
That  shot,  as  through  the  morning  air 'twas  hurled, 


30  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

Sent  consternation  round  the  Christian  world, 
Proclaiming,  while  the  nations  stood  aghast, 
That  Freedom  and  Oppression  had  at  last 
Unsheathed  their  swords,  that  blood  must  now  be 

spilled, 
And  Freedom's  land  with  Freedom's  woes  be  filled. 

Did  Lincoln  quail  when  Sumter's  gallant  few 
From  burning  walls  and  threatened  death  with- 
drew; 

When  Anderson  from  out  that  fort  did  bring 
His  country's  flag,  a  torn  and  tattered  thing? 
No;  for  the  Northern  pulse  was  burning  then; 
He  calmly  sat  and  with  official  pen 
Called  on  the  states  for  troops  of  volunteers 
To  save  the  Union.     Quick,  with  ringing  cheers, 
Up  sprung  the  nation,  ready  for  the  fray, 
And  organized  whole  armies  in  a  day. 

The  mighty  forests,  dreary  and  profound, 
Re-echoed  with  the  strange,  stentorian  sound; 
The  woodman  dropped  his  axe  and  sought  his  gun; 
"The  Southern  foe,"  said  he,  "shall  fight  or  run." 


CANTO  THE  THIRD.  31 

The  farmer  heard  it  as  he  wiped  his  brow, 
And  straightway  in  the  furrow  left  his  plow; 


Went  home  and  charged  his  wife  to  pray  that  harm 
Might  not  befall  him; gave  the  stock  and  farm 
Into  her  care;  then  sought  the  nearest  town, 
And  had  his  name  with  volunteers  set  down. 
The  merchant  called  his  wife  into  his  store; 

s 

Bade  her  good-bye  and  through  the  open  door 
Threw  fervent  kisses  as  he  strode  away 
To  face  the  sabres  of  the  men  in  gray. 
The  lawyer  left  his  office  and  his  tomes, 
And  pastors  left  their  modest,  cozy  homes, 
While  men  of  letters  left  their  desks  to  fight— 
With  swords,  not  pens — for  freedom  and  for  right. 
The  widowed  mother  called  her  stalwart  boys— 
They  who  had  been  for  years  her  brightest  joys— 
Around  her  chair  and  bade  them  everyone 


32 


LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 


Lay  down  their  tools  and  seek  a  sworn  or  gun. 
"I  need  you  all  at  home,"  said  she,  "and  fain 
Would  keep  you,  for  the  parting  gives  me  pain 
But  duty  to  our  country  says  me  nay; 
A  foe  to  freedom  menaces  to-day 
The  torn  foundations  of  our  native  land; 
Then  go  you  forth  and  join  a  soldier  band. 
Fight  bravely,  boys,  and  to  your  flag  be  true; 
Die,  rather  than  disgrace  'the  boys  in  blue.'" 

Thus  did  the  patriotic  North  obey, 
And  organize  whole  armies  in  a  day. 


Canto  the  Fourth. 


Che  Battle  of  Bull  IRun. 


THE  LAMP  of  night  in  splendor  rode  on  high, 
And  fleecy  cloudlets  graced  a  placid  sky; 
The  night   winds   softly    touched    the    forest 

trees; 

Nature  and  all  her  forces  seemed  at  ease; 
No  jarring  note  informed  the  wrakeful  ear 
That  aught  save  peace  and  harmony  was  near. 

Alas!  that  nature's  most  seductive  forms 
So  oft  conceal  the  stealthy  march  of  storms! 
That  views  which  seem  most  restful  and  serene, 
The  fiercest  wars  of  passion  often  screen! 


34  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

What  mean  those  flickering  watch-tires  on  the 

hill? 

Those  prostrate  soldiers,  sleeping  now  and  still.' 
Those  wakeful  sentries  with  their  silent  tread, 
And  passwords  given  with  an  accent  dread? 
Why  does  McDowell  stand  with  eager  gaze 
And  scan  the  sky  for  dawning's  primal  rays? 
The  tokens  all  foreshow  a  deadly  tight 
When  morn's  approach  shall  chase  away  the  night. 

The  dawning  came  at  last,  and  signs  of  strife 
Sprung  from  earth's  bosom  into  active  life. 
Two  living  armies,  one  in  cheery  blue 
And  one  in  somber  gray,  appeared  in  view; 
And  as  morn's  brighter  rays  around  them  strayed, 
A  gorgeous  scene  their  moving  colors  made. 

The  soldiers  rose  and  wiped  the  pearly  dew 
With  zealous  care  from  gun  and  scabbard,  too; 
Looked  to  their  powder,  ate  a  hurried  meal. 
And  felt  within  as  only  soldiers  feel 
Who  know  their  only  duty  is  to  tight. 
And  maybe  die,  to  vindicate  the  right. 


CANTO  THE  FOURTH.  35 

Already  had  the  burning  July  sun 
Two  thirds  his  journey  toward  the  noontide  run, 
When  midst  a  little  band  of  men  in  gray 
A  shot  was  sent,  the  signal  for  the  fray. 
But  scarcely  had  the  brunt  of  war  begun 
When  Hunter  fell;  his  brave  career  was  run. 
Then  Slocum,  too,  received  his  mortal  wound, 
And  soldiers,  dead  and  dying,  strewed  the  ground. 
But  Hunter's  "Blues"  soon  had  the  driving  hand, 
As  Sherman  joined  the  fast  pursuing  band. 

Down,    down    the    northern    slope    of    Young's 

Branch  ran 

McDowell's  army,  cheering,  every  man; 
The  men  in  gray,  too  spiritless  to  cope 
\Vith  whelming  numbers,  faced  the  southern  slope 
And  mounted  it  with  quick,  but  weary,  feet; 
Their  broken  ranks  implied  no  planned  retreat. 
They    reached    the    summit;    there surprising 

sight! 

They  found  a  full  brigade  in  trim  to  tight 
In  their  defense,  a  wall  of  men  in  gray, 
With  lackson  in  command. 


36  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

"Away!  away!" 

Cried  Bee  to  Jackson,  see!  they  beat  us  back!" 
Brave  Jackson  saw  what  Bee  just  then  did  lack. 
"We'll  give  them  bayonets,"  coolly  answered  he. 
His  firm  demeanor  shamed  the  flurried  Bee; 
"Form!  Form!"  he  cried,  "See,  there,  how  Jack- 
son stands 
Like  a  stone  wall!"      Like   thought   a  thousand 

hands 

Gripped  with  a  firmer  hold  their  weapons;  then 
They  turned;  they  formed,  and  faced  their  foes 

like  men. 

"Stonewall  Jackson!"  cried  the  gallant  "Grays;" 
"Stonewall  Jackson!"     Tomes  of  written  praise 
Could  say  no  more;  its  magic  pleased  the  men, 
And  turned  the  tide  of  battle  there  and  then. 

In  vain  the  "Union  Boys"  with  valor  strained 
Their  every  nerve  to  hold  what  they  had  gained. 
Three  times  they  won—at  what  a  fearful  cost!— 
The  batteries  they  in  weaker  moments  lost. 
In  vain  they  wished  for  re-enforcements  then, 
And  feigned  retreat,  then  braved  the  Grays  again. 


CANTO  THE  FOURTH.  37 

•» 

From  every  side  they  saw  with  grim  despair, 
As  dust  and  smoke  begrimed  the  sultry  air 
And  lengthened  shadows  told  of  coming  eve, 
Their  Southern  foes  some  added  strength  receive. 

"Here's  Johnston  from   the  vale!"   the   "Blues" 

at  last 

In  terror  cried,  and  then  the  die  was  cast. 
The  Union  soldiers  homeward  ran  a  race; 
The  battle  ended,  ended  in  disgrace; 
No  single  soul  would  heed  McDowell's  call 
To  rally  once  again;  their  knapsacks  all, 
Their  arms  and  ammunition  strewed  the  way. 
Thus  were  the  "Blues"  defeated  by  the  "Gray." 

But  Lincoln  was  not  vanquished;  his  reserve 
Was  still  intact.     The  new  recruits  might  swerve 
From  duty's  path  where  gleaming  swords  were 

red, 
Where  those  who  fought  and  those  who  bravely 

led 

Bestrewed  a  blood-stained  field.     But,  braver  man, 
The  President  was  ready  with  his  plan. 


38  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

Disaster  on  disaster  might  wring  sighs 

From  his  rough  nature,  tears  from  his  kind  eyes; 

But  from  his  purpose  he  could  not  be  moved 

Until  he  had  Jehovah's  purpose  proved. 

With  mien  unruffled  Lincoln  took  his  pen, 

And  called  to  arms  a  half  a  million  men. 

His  timely  firmness,  like  a  beacon  light 
That  pierces  midnight's  gloom  and  glads  the  sight, 
Cheered  and  bestirred  to  greater  efforts  those 
Who,  rather  than  submit  to  freedom's  foes, 
Chose  war's  privations  then  to  promptly  brave, 
To  win  their  cause  or  fill  a  soldier's  grave. 


Canto  the  Fifth. 


HDcrrimac  ant)  fIDonitor. 


OXG  months  of  skirmishing  each  army  spent, 
Now  winning  laurels,  then  in  quarters  pent; 
Despondent  one  day  over  vantage  lost; 
The  next  day  on  a  wave  of  triumph  tossed; 
Each  army  learned  that  even  leaden  hail 
'Gainst  well  trained  soldiers  was  of  small  avail; 
That  uninstructed  legions,  though  they  stretched 
From  hill  to  hill,  when  skill  and  courage  fetched 
A  phalanx  there,  would  fall  before  the  foe, 
Their  strength  and  numbers  melt  away  like  snow. 
Both  learned  the  lesson;  both  for  learning  paid; 


40  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

Blood  was  the  price;  for  many  a  field  displayed 
How  heroes  from  the  ranks  of  either  side 
Had  bravely  fought  and,  fighting,  bravely  died. 
To  war's  mutations  thus  were  all  inured, 
And  each  side  deemed  its  own  success  assured. 

The  North  had  not  forgotten  that  its  coasts 
Needed  protection  from  the  Southern  hosts; 
The  South  was  mindful  that  its  youthful  fleet 
Was  ill  prepared  the  Northern  foe  to  meet. 
Both  realized  that  even  on  the  sea 
Neglect  might  court  disaster,  which  might  be 
A  point  from  which  the  conqueror  could  run— 
Klated  with  a  triumph  lightly  won— 
To  great  and  more  decisive  conquests,  till 
Experience,  blended  with  increasing  skill, 
Might  force  the  feebler  combatants  to  yield, 
Or  fly  with  fear  the  last  contested  field. 

In  Hampton  Roads,  to  block    the  passage  way, 
Some  Northern  ships  in  watchful  silence  lay. 
Yes,  they  were  watchful,  for  the  Southern  foe, 
With  dire  intent  to  strike  a  fatal  blow 


CANTO  THE  FIFTH.  41 

At  Northern  shipping  and  its  forts  as  well, 
Had  built  a  ship  designed  to  ring  the  knell 
Of  Northern  prestige  and  of  Lincoln's,  too, 
And  crush  the  hopes  of  all  the  Boys  in  Blue. 

Ship,  did  we  call  it?  'twas  a  floating  roof 
Of  heavy  iron,  shot-  and  bomb-shell  proof. 
First  of  her  race  was  she,  and  ugly,  too, 
As  any  craft  that  ever  loomed  in  view. 

She  came  and  dealt  her  blows  with  hellish  force; 
Her  foes  replied  with  shot;  but  that,  of  course, 
Was  powder  wasted,  for  her  master  laughed 
As  every  shot  that  struck,  both  fore  and  aft, 
Glanced  swiftly  skyward  on  an  aimless  quest, 
Or  plunged  beneath  in  briny  mud  to  rest. 
She  crushed  the  Cumberland  with  horrid  ease, 
And  then,  as  if  the  fearful  work  did  please 
Her  callous  master,  struck  another  blow 
And  sent  the  Northern  war  ship  down  below. 
Her  sick  and  wounded  found  a  watery  grave; 
Nought  but  her  ensign  floated  o'er  the  wave. 


42  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

Straight    for    the    Congress    then    the    monster 

steered; 

Elated  with  success,  her  gunners  cheered; 
The  ship  pursued  was  promptly  run  aground; 
The  Merrimac  s  commander  therefore  found 
An  easy  prey  at  which  he  blazed  with  zeal 
That  made  the  Congress  shiver  to  her  keel. 
One  half  her  valiant  crew  were  quickly  slain; 
The  remnant  bravely  fought,  but  fought  in  vain; 
The  monster's  missiles  set  the  ship  afire— 
What  greater  triumph  could  the  South  require! 
Could  greater  glory  in  a  war  be  earned? 
The  adversary  slain,  his  war  ships  burned! 

When  morning  came  the  Congress  was  no  more; 
Her  smoking  fragments  strewed  the  pebbly  shore; 
Her  living  consorts  still  their  ensigns  waved, 
And  dubiously  the  Southern  war  ship  braved 

The  Merrimac  came  down  with  movement  proud; 
Her  massive  beak  the  wavelets  grandly  plowed; 
The  Minnesota  seemed  an  easy  prey 
To  capture  and  in  triumph  bear  away. 


CANTO  THE  FIFTH.  45 

But  promised  glory  sometimes  proves  a  dream, 
And  truly  some  "things  are  not  what  they  seem." 

The  Monitor,  a  weird,  uncanny  ship, 
Most  deftly  then  let  all  her  moorings  slip, 
And  stood  defiant  'gainst  that  haughty  thing 
Whose  merciless  attacks  such  woe  could  bring. 
The    Southern    gunners    shook    their   sides   and 

laughed; 

Called  it  "a  little  cheese  box  on  a  raft;" 
As  well  they  might,  although  that  tiny  form 
Had  faced  and  braved  a  fierce  Atlantic  storm. 
Now,  proudly  confident  of  latent  strength, 
Her  cool  commander  placed  her  dwarf-like  length 
In  trim  to  fight  the  ship  whose  prestige  then 
Had  filled  with  gloom  the  minds  of  Northern  men. 

The  Merrimac  commenced  the  fight  with  pride; 
The  Monitor  with  ponderous  shot  replied; 
But  each  ship  being  clad  with  heavy  mail, 
The  shot  rebounded  from  their  sides  like  hail. 
Five  times  the  bigger  giant  made  essay 
To  run  the  smaller  giant  down.     Straightway, 


46  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

Each  time,  the  smaller  giant's  guns  repelled 
The  bold  attempt,  and  once,  at  least,  compelled 
The  bigger  ship  to  run  her  keel  aground; 
Then,  like  a  sprite,  the  stripling  danced  around, 
Seeking  and  striking  each  unarmored  spot, 
And  making  quarters  there  intensely  hot. 

The  Merrimac's  commander,  not  yet  foiled— 
Though  for  a  time  the  sprite  his  plans  had  spoiled 
Soon  got  his  ship  afloat  and  steamed  straightway 
To  where  the  Minnesota  waiting  lay. 

With  Southern  valor  flashing  in  his  eyes, 

. 

He  swore  to  take  that  vessel  as  a  prize, 
Or  give  her  with  the  Cumberland  a  berth 
Where  guns  and  valor  are  of  little  worth. 

Van  Brunt  stood  ready  for  the  threatened  crash; 
His  broadsides  greeted  with  a  stunning  flash 
The  coming  vessel.     'Twas  of  small  avail; 
For  they  who  lived  to  tell  the  stirring  tale 
Said  that  her  heavy  shot,  like  pebbles,  glanced 
Harmlessly  skyward  as  the  foe  advanced. 
A  shell  then  pierced  the  Minnesota's  side; 


CANTO  THE  FIFTH.  47 

But  once  again  the  little  demon  hied 

The  bigger  one  to  harrass  and  to  hound, 

And  forced  once  more  the  heavy  hull  aground. 

The  Minnesota,  thankful  it  was  so, 

Rounded  and  pounded  on  her  stranded  foe, 

Till  he  who  ruled  the  primal  iron  ship 

Thought  prudence  bade  him  from  the  combat  slip; 

With  strenuous  toil  he  floated  off  once  more, 

And  steamed  away  as  if  the  fight  were  o'er. 

"Stay!"cried  the  gunner  on  the  lesser  ship, 
"Before  you  go  I'll  try  your  wings  to  clip." 
Quick  after  her  the  Monitor  then  raced; 
The  Merrimac  in  anger  turned  and  faced 
The  saucy  sprite,  then  rushed  with  fervid  speed 
To  crush  her  bold  tormentor;  but  the  deed 
Brought  no  results;  the  well  aimed,  forceful  blow 
Struck  nought  but  empty  air.     The  nimble  foe, 
Armored  for  such  close  fighting,  forthwith  tried 
Her  weighty  shot  against  her  rival's  side. 
Charge  followed  charge  and  each  a  volley  brought, 
A  quick  reply  with  weight  and  thunder  fraught. 


48  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

And  thus  for  hours,  amid  a  deafening  roar, 

A  duel  raged  the  like  of  which  before 

The  world  had  never  seen.     The  mighty  blows 

That  passed  with  lightning  speed  between  these 

foes 

Stunned  and  appalled  spectators  on  the  land; 
The  sight,  though  fearful,  was  intensely  grand. 

To  courage,  swiftness,  skill  and  strength  com- 
bined, 

Success  in  war  most  often  has  inclined; 
The  present  conflict  no  exception  proved; 
Both  ships  were  damaged,  but  the  bigger  moved 
First  from  the  combat,  and,  with  sinking  stern, 
To  Norfolk's  wharves  in  gloomy  mood  did  turn. 
Dejection  clouded  her  commander's  eyes; 
He  towed  not  at  the  stern  his  promised  prize; 
He  had  that  day  not  e'en  a  war  ship  burned. 
Instead,  he  had  this  crushing  lesson  learned: 
Although  the  South  had  centered  all  its  skill 
In  one  strong  ship,  the  North,  more  skillful  still. 
Had  saved  its  fleet,  redeemed  its  prestige,  too, 
And  given  all  its  hopes  a  rosy  hue. 


CANTO  THE  FIFTH,  49 

Throughout    the    North    the   cheering    tidings 

went, 

And  forthwith  every  patriot  gave  vent 
To  pent  up  cheers;  and  glad,  tumultuous  notes 
Poured,  unrestrained  and  strong,  from  countless 

throats. 

The  legislature  the  inventor  praised 
Whose  skill,  unmatched,  the  nation's  hopes  had 

raised; 

From  public  platforms  and  from  pulpits,  too, 
Came  eulogies  and  plaudits  not  a  few. 
The  press  its  potent,  burning  words  sent  forth 
And  roused  to  fervent  joy  the  loyal  North. 
The  people  rushed  from  cities  far  and  near 
To  gaze  delighted  and  with  vision  clear 
Upon  that  small,  unique,  unhandsome  thing 
Whose  prowess  made  the  hills  and  valleys  ring. 

Why  all  this  gladness  ?     Why  these  peals  of  joy  ? 
The  war  still  raged;  the  South  might  yet  destroy 
The  wonder  worker;  these  exultant  airs 
Again  give  place  to  war's  perplexing  cares! 


50 


LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 


The  President  now  knew,  and  knew  it  well, 
The  turning  point  was  passed,  though  none  could 

tell 

The  fierceness  of  the  struggle  ere  the  goal 
Would  gladden  with  its  light  his  burdened  soul. 
He,  knowing  that  Jehovah  ever  meant 
That  right  shall  live  unvanquished,  smiled  content; 
His  confidence  with  fervor  gladly  voiced; 
The  nation  heard  it  and  in  sympathy  rejoiced. 


HANS    ANDERSON. 

The  Last  Survivor  of  the  Monitor's  Volunteer  Crew. 


Canto  the  Sixth. 


act  of  Emancipation, 


LTHOUGH  the  negro  long  had  worn  a:  yoke 
And  bared  his  back  to  many  a  cruel  stroke, 
His  patient  soul  divined  that  he  was  not 
By  God  forsaken  to  his  hapless  lot, 
Hope  lived  within  him,  pointing  with  its  ray 
To  some  obscured  emancipation  day. 
And  yet,  commingling  with  his  hopeful  song, 
Was  often  heard,  "How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long?" 

From  husbands  who  had  yielded  loving  wives 
To  dark  oblivion  of  their  future  lives; 


52  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

From  cotton  fields  where,  leaning  on  his  hoe, 
The  toiler  raised  no  hand  to  stay  the  flow 
Of  welling  tears;  from  many  a  cabin  home 
Whence  fathers  bade  inquiring  fancy  roam 
In  search  of  sons  and  daughters  loved  too  well- 
Horn,  loved  and  reared  for  other  men  to  sell;— 
From  many  a  mother's  heart  by  anguish  torn, 
Hereft  of  all  the  loved  ones  she  had  borne, 
Arose  incessant  plaints  against  the  wrong, 
And  still  they  cried,    "How   long,    O    Lord,  how 
long?" 

Frojn  dungeon  walls  where  prisoners  shook  their 

chains, 

And  filled  the  air  with  weird,  religious  strains; 
From  minds  beclouded  with  their  thraldom's  night; 
From  mansions  where  the  captives'  yoke  seemed 

light; 

From  every  Southern  dale  and  cultured  plain 
The  plaintive  cry  went  up  with  swelling  strain. 
It  rose  above  the  might  of  ocean's  roar 
That  struck  its  notes  upon  the  rugged  shore; 


CANTO  THE  SIXTH.  53 

The  clash  of  warfare  in  the  crimsoned  vale 
Was  drowned  beneath  this  all-important  wail; 
It  gathered  volume  mid  the  upland  rills, 
And  swept  with  grandeur  up  the  wooded  hills; 
It  stayed  not  in  its  gracious,  heavenward  flight 
Till  in  the  regions  of  celestial  light- 
Attended  by  a  myriad  angels  there, 
An  earth-born-,  earnest,  agonizing  prayer 
From  creatures  groaning  'neath  a  cruel  rod— 
It  halted  at  the  very  throne  of  God, 
And  spread  itself  in  accents  pure  and  strong, 
The  same  refrain,  ''How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long?" 

An  answer  from  the  battlements  above 
To  earth  one  day  descended  fraught  with  love, 
Found  a  responsive  chord  in  Lincoln's  heart 
And  bade  him  promptly  act  a  steward's  part. 
To  him  rare  talents  had  been  freely  loaned; 
For  his  avenging,  souls  in  waiting  groaned; 
His  was  the  hand  Jehovah  had  decreed 
Should  stand  between  the  bondman  and  his  need; 
Should    strike    the    shackles    from    the    captive 

throngs, 
And  loose  the  chorus  of  ecstatic  songs. 


54  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

Severe  reverses,  sometimes  real  defeat, 
At  times  had  made  the  Northern  gloom  complete. 
The  Southern  armies,  therefore,  boldly  pushed 
Their  outposts  northward,  and  would  soon  have 

crushed 

With  dire  defeat  the  loyal  Keystone  State; 
But  loyalty  stood  armed  at  every  gate; 
And  even  Maryland,  th'  invader  knew, 
Did  not  with  favor  his  intrusion  view. 

The  President,  with  faith  unshaken  still, 
A  trusty  weapon  held,  and  held  it  till 
A  more  auspicious  day  when  victors'  songs 
Might  thrill  once  more  the  nation's  loyal  throngs. 
The  weapon  Lincoln  held  had  been  designed 
By  Him  who  rules  the  fates  of  all  mankind; 
And  though  he  held  it  in  abeyance  now, 
The  Bondmen's  Friend  had  made  a  solemn  vow- 
Thereby  to  prove  the  goodness  of  that  hand 
Which   ruled  with  chastening  then  the  suffering 

land- 
That  whensoe'er  the  Southern  army  might 
From  Maryland  retreat  in  driven  flight, 


CANTO  THE  SIXTH.  55 

He'd  crown  the  blessed  victory  with  a  deed 

By  which  the  slaves  should  one  and  all  be  freed. 

The  wished  for  turn  of  fortune  came  at  last; 
A  dreaded  crisis  had  been  safely  passed; 
Antietam's  bloody  field  admonished  Lee 
That  Northern  soil,  however  guileful  he 
Might  be  in  warfare,  still  was  unsafe  ground 
For  Southern  forces;  therefore  turned  he  round 
And  skillfully,  but  promptly,  then  withdrew 
His  menaced  army  and  his  outposts,  too. 

'Twas  Lincoln's  hour,  the  climax  of  his  life- 
No  short-lived  semblance  of  an  inward  strife 
Delayed  one  moment  his  responsive  pen; 
The  bravest,  kindest,  most  beloved  of  men, 
The  strongest  modern  friend  of  humankind 
He  stood  and  firmly,  but  devoutly,  signed 
The  document  that  made  the  bondmen  free, 
Co-heirs  with  him  of  heaven-born  liberty. 

Thus  Lincoln,  by  a  bold,  decisive  stroke, 
The  galling,  hated  chains  of  thraldom  broke; 
He  wiped  away  a  grievous  crimson  stain 


56  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

That  on  his  country's  record  long  had  lain; 

And  in  the  rank  of  nations  foremost  placed 

A  young  republic,  now  no  more  debased 

In  sight  of  Christendom  and  God  because 

Of  foul  oppression  sanctioned  by  its  laws. 

No  blare  of  trumpets  heralded  the  deed; 

For  pageantry  and  pomp  he  saw  no  need; 

No  throng  of  courtiers  did  the  hour  attract; 

No  ceremonials  sanctified  the  act; 

To  Lincoln's  pure  and  grandly  simple  mind 

'Twas  all  sufficient  that  his  God  inclined 

To  look  with  favor  on  his  steward  then 

And  bless  the  deed  that  blessed  his  fellow  men. 

The  negroes  in  their  lowly  cabins  heard 
The  gracious  news  that  all  the  world  had  stirred; 
And  though  there  yet  remained  a  hundred  days 
To  thraldom's  limit,  jubilees  of  praise 
Were  mingled  with  each  simple,  fervent  prayer 
That  rose  like  incense  through  the  Southern  air. 
No  longer  rose  that  agonized  refrain 
That   once  had  seemed  to  smite  the  heavens  in 
vain; 


CANTO  THE  SIXTH.  57 

All  now  had  child-like  faith  and  trust  in  God, 
Whose  will  parental  could  remove  the  rod. 
Unwavering  faith  gave  wings  to  those  few  days, 
While  hope's  effulgent,  soul  ennobling  rays 
Broadened  and  brightened  all  good  things  in  view, 
And  made  the  negro's  world  seem  wholly  new. 

No  pen  can  faithfully  portray  the  night 
That  closed  the  era  of  the  slaver's  right 
To  buy,  to  brand,  or  with  capricious  will 
Maltreat  his  fellow  man  with  studied  skill. 
The  carnal  frame  is  circumscribed  on  earth; 
Its  acts,  summed  up,  are  oft  of  little  worth; 
The  mind  of  man's  the  fountain  of  his  might; 

\Vhen  that   goes  free Ah!  who   shall    track    its 

flight? 

The  aged  father  sat  with  moistened  eye 
And  watched  the  solemn,  fateful  hours  go  by; 
His  gray-haired  wife  sat  near  and  prayed  aloud, 
And  oft  her  head  in  adoration  bowed. 
Their  youngsters — soon  their  own — refrained  from 
sleep, 


58  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

Glad  on  that  night  a  holy  watch  to  keep. 

Young    husbands   stood    and   smiled    upon    their 

wives— 

The  lights,  the  joys  of  all  their  future  lives; 
While  tender  fnpthers  o'er  their  offspring  wept 
Hot  tears  of  joy  as  those  dark  cherubs  slept. 

The  fateful  moment  came,  the  midnight  sound, 
And  straightway,  with  a  glad,  ecstatic  bound, 
Praise  and  loud  hallelujahs  filled  the  air; 
Tears,  holy  tears  of  joy,  fell  everywhere. 
The  aged  pilgrim  clasped  his  tottering  wife— 
His  own  at  last,  though  near  the  end  of  life— 
And  mingled  praises  with  her  earnest  prayers 
That  few- henceforth  might  be  their  earthly  cares; 
The  youthful  husband  took  a  fresh  embrace 
Of  his  young  wife,  and  on  her  upturned  face 
Wept  tears  of  rapture.     Both  were  happy  then; 
They  knelt  and  prayed,  then  wept  with  joy  again. 
Each  happy  mother  praised  the  Lord  aloud 
And  waked  a  chorus  from  the  sable  crowd 
Of  youngsters  scampering  o'er  the  cabin  floor, 
Who  wondered  wherefore  all  this  glad  uproar. 


CANTO  THE  SIXTH.  59 

Joy,  Unrestrained,  burst  forth  in  varied  song; 
From  south  to  north    its  volume  rolled  along; 
Fom  east  to  west  it  sped  with  swelling  sound; 
It  stayed  not  till  it  roved  the  world  around; 
And  still  it  echoes  God's  benign  decree, 
Which  Lincoln  penned,  that  here  all  men  are  free. 


Canto  the  Seventh. 


<Ibe  %ast  l?car  of  the  TOar. 


HE  martial  notes  that  struck  each   Southern 

hill 
&3&     Proclaimed   the  crimson  war-stream  flowing 

still; 

Its  sinuous  progress  o'er  the  charred  expanse 
Of  vales  once  verdant  marked  the  stern  advance 
Of  conquering  legions.     They  were  "men  in  blue," 
Who  fought  for  freedom  and  the  Union,  too. 

The  bravely  stubborn  men  who  wore  the  gray 
Found  their  resources  dwindling  day  by  day, 


CANTO  THE  SEVENTH.  6J 

Their  utmost  skill  with  greater  skill  attacked, 
Their  forts  dismantled  and  their  cities  sacked. 
Both  armies  wished  to  check  the  loss  of  life; 
Both  bravely  fought  to  end  the  bloody  strife; 
But  every  soldier  in  his  soldier  foe— 
On  march  triumphant  or  in  dust  laid  low- 
Discerned  a  patriot,  both  true  and  brave, 
Who  gave  his  life  his  country's  life  to  save. 

The  march  of  war  seemed  but  a  weary  plod, 
Men  called  for  haste;  but  still  the  mills  of  God 
Ground  slowly,  though  they  ground  exceeding 

small; 
Nor  could  a  mortal's  haste  God's  plan  forestall. 

Haste  genders  rashness;  rashness  often  ends 
In  dire  disaster;  but  the  man  who  blends 
A  prudent  patience  with  a  knowledge  when 
To  strike  may  fight  and  live  to  fight  again. 
Such  men  in  warfare  are  great  men  indeed; 
And  such  were  Grant  and  Sherman.     They  agreed 
To  try  what  each,  eschewing  haste,  could  do 
By  "hammering"  at  the  South  the  summer  through. 


62  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

They  planned  to  harrass  with  persistent  skill, 
To  give  no  rest,  no  breathing  times,  until 
The  final  blow  should  tell  of  war's  surcease 
And  sound  the  keynote  of  the  wished-for  peace. 

Their  plans  matured,  each  general  went  his  way 
To  plague  forthwith  the  South  from  day  to  day. 
Grant  marched  into  the  Wilderness  and  there 
Harrassed  the  foe  with  might  and  zealous  care. 
His  object  was  on  Richmond  to  advance; 
But  Lee's  troops  led  him  many  a  weary  dance; 
And  many  a  fierce  engagement  there  was  fought, 
And  every  victory  was  dearly  bought. 
Yet  Grant  was  stubborn,  dogged,  brave  and  true; 
And  though  'tis  said  ten  thousand  "men  in  blue" 
Fell  in  one  fight,  he  dreamed  not  of  retreat; 
His  was  a  mood  that  never  knew  defeat. 

Meanwhile,  from  Chattanooga  Sherman  moved 
LIpon  Atlanta.     There  the  soldier  proved 
That,  though  a  conqueror,  he  was  still  inspired 
With  human  kindness;  for  although  he  fired 
The  mills  and  foundries  with  relentless  hand 


CANTO  THE  SEVENTH.  63 

He  let  the  dwellings  and  the  churches  stand. 
Then  marched  he  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea; 
Rain  from  the  heavens  and  bullet-rain  from  Lee 
Stayed    not    his   march.        His    troops   were    now 

inured 

To  war's  mischances,  and  all  ills  endured 
With  resignation.     E'en  the  cheerful  song 
Lightened  their  footsteps  as  they  tramped  along. 
Each  day  the  war's  last  battle  nearer  seemed; 
Each    night     of    home    scenes     many    a    soldier 

dreamed. 

At  last!  At  last!  the  cruel  war  was  o'er; 
Right  was  triumphant;  Freedom,  battle  sore, 
Was  Freedom  still;  unvanquished,  yet  alert, 
By  mercy  swayed,  to  heal  her  foeman's  hurt. 
Stayed  was  war's  havoc;  stayed,  the  waste  of  life; 
All  arms  were  stacked;  the  purpose  of  the  strife 
Forgotten  in  the  eagerness  of  men 
To  tie  the  bonds  of  brotherhood  again. 

Where  then  was  Lincoln,  he  whose  anxious  eye 
Had  watched  the  troublous  months  and  years  go 
by? 


64  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

Where  was  the  man  who  skillfully  had  steered 
The  ship  of  state  through  dangers  all  else  feared; 
Whose  courage  saved  the  Union  and  removed 
The  bane  that  had  almost  its  ruin  proved? 
Not  as  a  judge  sat  he  condemning  those 
To  punishment  who  were  his  vanquished  foes; 
Not  on  a  throne  sat  he  with  pomp  to  wait 
The  nation's  plaudits  of  the  good  and  great; 
Nor  in  a  chariot  rode  he  that  all  eyes 
Might  see  his  glory  like  a  halo  rise. 

In    Richmond's   streets  the   Bondmen's   Friend 

was  found; 

A  thousand  negroes  hemmed  his  path  around; 
Each  vied  with  each  to  greet  with  honest  smile 
The  nation's  head,  and  bless  his  name  the  while. 
Each  earnest  preacher,  with  stentorian  voice, 
Called  on  his  flock  to  thank  God  and  rejoice 
That  they  had  been  permitted  thus  to  see 
The  man  whose  greatness  made  the  lowly  free. 
Then  every  singer  in  that  happy  throng 
Wove  Lincoln's  name  in  his  exultant  song; 


CANTO  THE  SEVENTH.  65 

And,  as  their  plaudits  fell  on  Lincoln's  ear, 
His  smile  was  brightened  by  a  glistening  tear; 
Their  joy  was  all  his  grateful  soul  could  crave; 
The  simple  scene  more  satisfaction  gave 
Than  perorations  which  the  crowds  commend, 
Or  lofty  strophes  by  a  poet  penned. 


^C^CX. 


Canto  the  Eighth. 


Gbe  Jfinal  Blow. 


FELT  relieved  and  hopeful  that  at  last 
Their   country's   darkest   period   had   been 

passed; 

That  peaceful  homes  no  more  by  hostile  hordes 
Should  be   destroyed;    that   guns   and   blood-red 

swords 
Henceforth  should  hang  exempt  from  war's  dark 

crimes- 
Mementoes  only  of  those  troublous  times. 
Abroad,  the  friends  of  freedom  all  rejoiced; 
At  home,  the  nation's  joy  had  scarce  been  voiced. 
The  cause  for  joy,  'tis  true,  was  full  and  grand; 
It  brightened  every  hamlet  in  the  land; 


£  x 


CANTO  THE  EIGHTH.  69 

But  'twas  a  joy  that  blended  oft  with  grief 

For  Southern  woes  that  called  for  prompt  relief. 

One  evil  sign  told  yet  of  coming  ill— 
The  sword  of  Justice  flashed  in  anger  still. 
Men  saw  it  not;  but  heaven's  astonished  throngs 
Paused  ere  they  struck  the  notes  of  joyful  songs; 
Then  swiftly  gathered  round  the  vengeful  form, 
And  thus  essayed  to  turn  the  threatened  storm: 

"Ho!  Justice,  sheathe  thy  weary  weapon  now; 
Canst  thou  not  see  how  many  millions  bow 
In  gratitude  to  God  that  all  seems  o'er? 
Why  dash  their  hopes?     Why  rend   the  healing 

sore? 

Thy  ruthless  sword  with  blood  has  long  been  wet; 
Stay,  stay  thy  hand!"     But  Justice  cried  "Not  yet." 

"Ho!  Justice,  gaze  upon  the  crimsoned  vales; 
See  bleaching  bones  define  the  conquerors'  trails; 
See  desolation  where  sleek  herds  once  grazed; 
And  homes,  once  happy,  now  in  ashes  razed. 
List  to  the  tones  of  overwhelming  grief 
Bursting  from  hearts  doomed  ne'er  to  know  relief; 


70  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

List  to  the  widows  mourning  husbands  dead; 
To  mothers  wailing  o'er  the  spirits  fled; 
See  other  nations  haste  to  sympathize 
With  this  one's  woes;  then  surely  from  the  skies 
Should  grace  descend.    Oh!  Justice,  stay  thy  hand, 
And  smite  no  more  the  contrite,  suffering  land. 
Four  years  of  war  have  surely  paid  its  debt." 
But  Justice,  still  unmoved,  replied  "Not  yet." 

Amid  the  glad  pulsations  of  a  crowd, 
Before  the  shrine  of  recreation  bowed; 
With  war's  dread  tidings  now  no  more  depressed, 
The  mind  of  Lincoln  sought  its  needed  rest. 
His  honest  soul  had  not  divined  that  hate  — 
The  last  foul  spark — might  there  in  ambush  wait. 
But  so  it  wai;  the  tragic  moment  came  - 
A  sharp  report! — Booth's  bullet  found  its  aim, 
And  Lincoln  fell.     Oh!  there  was  horror  then 
And  blank  despair!     The  surging  waves  of  men 
Could  scarce  command  the  words  with  which  to 

swear- 
By  highest  heaven— that  he  whose  form  lay  there 
Should  be  avenged.     The  nation  felt  the  wound; 


CANTO  THE  EIGHTH.  71 

And  every  heart,  the  startled  country  round, 
Bled  with  fierce  anguish,  deep,  but  unconcealed- 
Anguish  that  to  the  world  its  throes  revealed. 
Great  God!  what  passions  stirred  the  masses  then! 
"Revenge!  Revenge!"  ten  thousand  cried  again— 
A  thousand  lives  could  not  for  this  atone!— 
The  life  of  Lincoln,  brilliant  and  alone, 
Was  virtue,  freedom,  love  for  all  mankind- 
Three  blessings  in  the  nation's  head  combined. 

But  o'er  the  masses  thus  with  anger  swayed 
A  voice  with  power  in  earnest  accents  strayed— 
"God  reigns  above;  our  nation  liveth  still!" 
The  people  heard,  then  bowed  to  heaven's  will. 
Thus  was  the  nation's  fiercest  trial  past, 
And  Justice  sheathed  her  crimson  sword  at  last. 

Did  Lincoln  die?     Did  his  magnific  mind 
Cease  work  because  the  gaze  of  humankind 
No  longer  saw  life's  motions  in  the  frame 
That  erst  had  housed  his  soul  and  borne  a  name? 
No.     Such  a  mind  lives  on,  for  ever  lives, 
And  of  its  plenitude  rich  treasure  gives 


72  LIBERTY'S  MARTYR. 

To  nations  seeking  heaven's  benignant  light— 
His  very  name  dispels  oppression's  night. 
Through  him  the  world  has  learned,  is  learning 

still, 
The   might    of  right,   backed   by  a    strong   man's 

will. 

And  through  unnumbered  years  that  yet  may  roll 
Ere  Freedom  shall  o'er  every  vale  and  knoll 
Of  this  tumultuous  earth  her  sceptre  sway, 
The  mind  of  Lincoln  will  not  rest  nor  stay; 
But  live  to  conquer,  while  a  stainless  fame 
Shall  daily  add  new  lustre  to  his  name. 


Brothers,  ail. 

— •»» — 

ROM  my  home  in  youth  I  wandered 
Far  and  wide  o'er  scenes  terrestrial; 
Saw  the  races  dark  and  swarthy, 

And  the  yellow-faced  Celestial; 

Stunted  Esquimaux  and  Red  Men 

Scorned  by  pale-faced  men  and  others; 

But,  despite  contempt  and  scorning, 

All  I  recognized  as  brothers. 

'Neath  the  equatorial  splendor 
Of  the  sun's  effulgent  beaming; 
Where  the  plains  are  ever  baking 
And  the  broad  lagoons  are  steaming; 
Where  the  atmosphere  malarial 
Slays  the  Englishman  and  others- 
There  the  black  and  stalwart  negroes 
Dwell,  and  they  are  all  my  brothers. 


74  BROTHERS,  ALL. 

Deep  amid  the  forest  tangle, 
Where  the  night  winds  answer,  moaning 
To  the  howling  of  the  jackal 
And  the  bleeding  victim's  groaning— 
There  I  found  the  man  whom  some  say 
Has  no  conscience  crime  can  smother; 
Yet  in  him,  amidst  his  baseness, 
Lo!  I  recognized  a  brother. 

Where  the  isles  of  ocean  glisten 
Like  the  gems  on  heaven's  portals; 
And  the  God-sent  bread-fruit  ripens— 
Food  for  throngs  of  favored  mortals— 
Where  in  days  gone  by  the  wild  men 
Plundered,  slew  and  ate  each  other; 
Though  degenerated  sadly, 
Still  I  recognized  a  brother. 

Back  again  among  the  alleys, 
Slums  and  by-ways  of  the  city, 
Where  the  air  is  thick  with  curses; 
WThere  the  dulcet  tones  of  pity 


_^      BROTHERS,  ALL.  75 

Seldom  reach  the  ears  of  children 
Born  of  creatures  miscalled  mothers- 
There  I  found — polluted,  loathsome,— 
Fallen  sisters,  sinful  brothers. 

O,  ye  dreamers,  learned  prophets, 
Orators  and  bold  reformers, 
Gabbling  politicians,  authors, 
Zealots,  priests  and  pulpit  stormers!— 
Earth  will  never  be  an  Eden 
Till  the  claims  and  rights  of  others- 
Black  men,  white  men,  red    or  yellow- 
Are  respected  as  our  brothers'. 


<Smi\>  a  IRose. 

fNLY  a  rose,"  said  a  heedless  girl, 
As  it  fell  from  her  breast  to  the  dusty  street; 
It  was  soon  forgotten  mid  hurry  and  whirl 
And  the  tramp  of  a  thousand  busy  feet. 
But  a  shoeless  lad  had  espied  the  flow'r 
And  carried  it  off  as  a  wondrous  prize; 
It  cheered  a  sick  brother  through  many  an  hour, 
And  brightened  his  languishing,  dying  eyes. 

Only  a  rose;  but  'twas  piously  laid 
With  tenderest  care  on  a  verdureless  grave; 
And  its  petals  a  halo  of  sweetness  made 
Like  that  which  the  bowers  of  Eden  gave; 
And  it  gladdened  the  heart  of  that  orphan  boy 
As  he  laid  it  down  on  that  mound  to  rest; 
For  he  said  "It  will  heighten  my  brother's  joy 
To  see  me  fulfilling  his  last  request." 


TOe're  Ibomewarb  Boimfc. 


NCE  restless  Fancy  left  her  home, 
Across  the  wide,  wide  world  to  roam; 
And  wandering  where  so  often  rest 

The  ships  asleep  on  Ocean's  breast, 

She  hovered  near  a  vessel  fair, 

Where,  poised  upon  the  midnight  air, 

Amid  the  stilness,  else  profound, 

She  heard  a  voice  "We're  homeward  bound." 

She  saw  that  vessel  tempest  driven, 
Her  bulwarks  broke,  her  topsails  riven; 
Her  laboring  hull  and  battered  form 
A  target  for  the  cruel  storm; 
She  saw  the  wild  waves  breaking  o'er 
Her  decks  where  all  was  peace  before; 
But  still  the  hope  inspiring  sound 
Broke  through  the  storm    "We're  homeward 
bound." 


78  WE'RE  HOMEWARD  BOUND. 

She  saw  that  graceful  vessel  glide- 
Befriended  by  both  wind  and  tide— 
Into  a  harbor's  safe  retreat 
Where  long  lost  vessels  daily  meet; 
And  though  upon  her  damaged  form 
She  bore  the  marks  of  many  a  storm, 
Her  crew  still  sang  with  cheering  sound 
The  glad  refrain  "We're  homeward  bound." 

She  saw  a  child  of  humble  birth 
Launch  out  upon  this  stormy  earth; 
And  mid  the  waves  and  shoals  of  life, 
Mid  rocks  of  grief  and  whirls  of  strife, 
Long  time  he  sought  what  humankind 
So  often  seek  but  seldom  find. 
At  last  a  guiding  hand  he  found 
On  which  was  writ  "We're  homeward  bound." 

That  guiding  hand  he  followed  long, 
When  pains  were  sharp  and  grief  was  strong; 
When  that  grim  monster  Death  bereaved, 
With  meekness  he  the  blow  received; 


WE'RE  HOMEWARD  BOUND.  79 

Or  when  misfortune  tore  away 

The  gains  he  toiled  for  day  by  day, 

Above  each  woe  would  still  resound 

The  cheering  lay  "We're  homeward  bound." 

She  saw  the  man,  grown  old  and  gray, 
Walk  warily  life's  lonesome  way; 
But  though  his  faltering  gait  betrayed 
The  inroads  fell  disease  had  made; 
Though  rapid  strides  he  dared  not  try, 
A  ray  of  hope  lit  up  his  eye 
And  cheered  him  o'er  the  toilsome  ground, 
As  still  he  read  "We're  homeward  bound." 

And  when  at  length  the  final  storm 
Laid  low  his  fragile,  tottering  form; 
When  Death,  to  end  his  earthly  race, 
Stood  gaunt  before  the  old  man's  face; 
The  legend,  still  with  comfort  fraught, 
To  sinking  nature  solace  brought— 
His  last  wish  this:  "Above  my  mound 
This  motto  write,  'We're  homeward  bound.' ' 


Stoc  b£  Sfoe. 

HEY  were  sitting  side  by  side  in  life's  morning 

bright  and  fair; 
ocw    He  was  ruddy,  strong  and  healthy;  she  pos- 
sessed a  beauty  rare; 
They  were  only  little  children;  yet  their  converse 

was  of  love, 

And  their  simple-worded  promises  were  registered 
above. 

They  were  learning  side  _by  side,  under  teachers 
grave  and  wise; 

And  they  drank  from  founts  of  knowledge  that 
for  youthful  learners  rise; 

And  his  help  was  freely  given  with  such  tender- 
ness and  grace 

That  her  gratitude  was  ever  beaming  through  her 
lovely  face. 


SIDE  BY  SIDE.  Si 

X  •  '*?*-  '- 

They  were  playing  side  by  side,  and  his  ever 
watchful  eye, 

Like  a  loving  guardian  angel,  was  for  ever  hover- 
ing nigh; 

They  were  'mid  the  snares  of  childhood,  but  his 
arm  so  young  and  strong 

Saved  her  fair  and  fragile  figure  from  impendirg 
harm  and  wrong. 

They  were  walking  side  by  side  when  their  school 

days  all  had  flown; 
When  the  rose  of  early  manhood  in   his  healthful 

face  had  blown; 
When    her   beauty,   like    a    fragrance,    lured  him 

often  to  her  side, 
And  again  they  vowed  that  never  aught  but  death 

should  part'therh  wide. 

They  were  standing  side  by  side— 'twas  the  long 

sought  hour  of  bliss — 
When  the  ritual  was  concluded,  and  the  sacred, 

honest  kiss 


82  SIDE  BY  SIDE. 

Was  bestowed  with  welcome  fervor,  as  the  newly 

wedded  wife, 
Leaning  on  his  manly  vigor,  launched  upon  the 

sea  of  life. 

They  were  fighting  side  by  side  in    life's  battle, 

roar  and   din, 
In  the  struggle  for  existence,  midst  the  whirls  of 

strife  and  sin; 
But  they  bravely  faced  each  danger,  though  they 

never  sought  a  foe, 
And   they   shared   the   victors'    laurels  when  the 

almond  flow's  did  blow. 

They  were  resting  side  by  side  in  their  cottage 
old  and  gray; 

Waiting,  waiting,  calmly  waiting  for  the  separa- 
tion day. 

Still  the  unextinguished  fires  of  their  ancient  love 
burned  high; 

Though  the  ears  of  both  were  heavy,  and  a  cloud 
bedimmed  each  eye. 


SIDE  BY  SIDE.  83 

<r 

They  are  lying  side   by   side    in    the   grave-yard 

'neath  the  sod, 
Where  they  rest   from    all   their   labors   till   the 

mighty  trump  of  God 
Shall  recall  to  forms  of  beauty  souls  that  from 

our  vision  glide, 
And    replace    the    loving    spirits  in  his  kingdom 

side  by  side. 


STOOD  where  Babylonia's  streams 
Glide  with  funereal  pace 
And  melancholy  grace 
Beneath  the  sheen  of  Luna's  playful  beams. 

Luxuriant  willows  graced  the  scene, 

Enhancing  evening's  charms 

And  banishing  alarms; 
For  Riot  dared  not  come  where  Peace  was 

queen. 

The  north  wind  moaned  a  plaintive  wail, 

And  Echo  scarcely  heard 

The  love  songs  of  that  bird 
Whose  trilling  oft  pervades  the  sleeping  vale. 

A  band  of  harpers,  bending  low 
Each  grief  worn,  anxious  face, 
Approached  the  hallowed  place 

With  drooping  gait  and  footsteps  sad   and 
slow. 


MUSIC  85 

There,  underneath  the  willows'  shade, 

They  struck  a  mournful  lay 

That  drove  all  joys  away- 
Then  Sorrow  came  and  lamentation  made. 

My  peace  was  gone;  gone  was  my  joy; 
Nor  could  they  soothe  again 
The  heart  they  smote  with  pain — 

Their  cords  vibrated  only  to  destroy. 

I  stood  where  Riot  reigned  supreme; 

Where  all  the  songs  of  mirth 

That  ever  yet  had  birth 
Were  blended  like  the  figures  in  a  dream. 

Fantastic  airs  and  swelling  notes 

Of  wild,  hilarious  lays, 

Joy,  rapture,  love  and  praise 
Poured,  unmelodious,  from  a  myriad  throats. 

The  drum,  the  harp,  the  trembling  lyre, 
The  sweetly  plaintive  lute, 
The  breathing,  vocal  flute,  ..,[ 

Conspired  to  fill  my  soul  with  fierce  desire. 


86  MUSIC. 

But  from  them  all  I  turned  aside— 

As  cloudlets,  light  and  rare, 

Melt  in  the  summer  air, 
Those  evanescent  pleasures  paled  and  died. 

I  stood  beneath  a  dome  profound, 

Where  all  the  builder's  will 

Was  patent  in  the  skill 
Displayed   to   catch   and    heighten   every 
sound. 

An  organist  was  there  whose  hands 
Seemed  touched  with  heaven's  fire, 
So  high  did  he  aspire 
As  if  his  life's  desire 

Was   to  out-measure  heaven's    seraphic 
bands, 

Above  the  earth  my  soul  he  bore 
Into  a  wide  abyss 
Of  wild,  ecstatic  bliss, — 
Joy  followed  swelling  joy; 
Raptures  without  alloy 


MUSIC.  87 

Rose,  bearing  me  along 
On  tempest  whirls  of  song 

Beyond aye,  far  beyond — life's  tuneless 

roar. 

Alas!  one  harsh,  false  note  he  played, 
And  back  upon  the  world 
My  wounded  soul  was  hurled, 

Like   soaring   dove   struck   by   the   zigzag 
blade. 

I  stood  where  none  but  dreamers  stand, 
And  heard  this  mighty  sphere 
Roll  out,  year  after  year, 

Its  own  majestic  tones  from  sea  and  land. 

Each  living  creature  raised  its  voice 

In  concert  as  the  sun 

His  blithesome  task  begun, 
And  bade  each  other  tunefully  rejoice. 

The  forest  trees,  a  stately  band, 

Like  minstrels  stood  and  played; 
They  caught  each  breeze  that  strayed, 

Transforming  every    breath    to    sweetness 
grand. 


88  MUSIC. 

Each  little  brook  essayed  a  song; 

Each  wavelet  sung  its  lay; 

While  through  the  ceaseless  day 
Niagara's  voice  was  musical  and  strong. 

The  ocean  roared  against  the  main; 

A  thousand  caves  replied; 

Their  echoes  swelled  and  died, 
And  rolling  thunders  toned  a  grand  refrain. 

Though  all  else  pleased,  I  could  not  close 

My  still  attentive  ear 

To  tones  of  p>ain  and  fear- 
Soul  piercing  tortesthat  told  of  earthly  woes. 

I  stood  where  legions  of  redeemed, 

From  every  tribe  and  clime, 

In  every  age  and  time, 

Through  heaven's   open  gate  have   gladly 
streamed. 

One  great  ambition  swayed  me  then; 

It  promised  perfect  bliss,— 

Ah!  did  I  seek  amiss?— 

To  learn  and  bring  heaven's  music  down  to 
men. 


MUSIC.  89 

It  could  not  be;  a  seraph  bright, 

Benevolent  and  kind, 

My  ardent  wish  divined, 
And  sped  to  shut  all  heaven  from  my  sight. 

Yet  in  my  visions,  passing  fair, 
He  came  with  goodness  filled, 
And  through  my  soul  instilled 

This  new  conception  of  the  music  there: 

In  yon  blest  realm,  where  love  doth  dwell, 
No  dubious  words  can  vex, 
Nor  foreign  tongues  perplex— 

Music  is  heaven's  language; — learn  it  well. 


I 


Genuine 


X  A  DREAM  I  was  seeking  a  genuine  man, 
And  a  man  with  a  pure,  lofty  aim; 


So  I  sailed  to  the  east  and  I  rode  to  the  west, 
Till  my  journeyings  brought  me  some  fame— 
From  the  frost  of  the  north  to  the  ice  of  the  south, 
Over  every  dominion  between; 
But  the  bright,  beaming  face  of  a  genuine  man 
Was  a  gem  that  but  seldom  was  seen. 

All    the  monarchs  of  earth  in  their  regal  attire 

Passed  beneath  my  inquisitive  gaze; 

And  their  splendor  and    pomp   were   a  sight   to 

behold, 

For  bedazzling  were  royalty's  rays; 
But  the  pageantry  faded,  the  lustre  all  died, 
When  the  blaze  of  their  presence  had  passed, 
And  I  loitered  in  vain  on  their  track  to  discern 
If  a  perfume  their  lifetimes  had  cast. 


THE  GENUINE  MAN.  9J 

Then    the    grandees    came    on     with    a    proud, 

haughty  mien 

And  their  tall  genealogical  trees, 
While    the    servitors    fawningly  walked    in    their 

train, 

Or  they  grovelled  the  lordlings  to  please. 
Amid  sporting  and   feasting  these  lived  out  their 

day, 

And  they  passed  from  life's  changeable  scene; 
But  the    names  that    still    shone   when    the    dust 

claimed  its  own 
Were  but  feeble  and  distant  between. 

Then   a  concourse    I    saw,    and  each   one  had  a 

tongue 

That  was  oiled  when  the  owner  thought  meet; 
And  for  those  who  are  easily  flattered  or  gulled 
They  had  always  a  wonderful  treat. 
By  their  cozening,  lying  and  promising  much 
They  secured  the  high  seats  they  desired, 
Where  a  few  of  them  shone;  but  alas!  for  their 

light,  - 
But  a  moment  it  blazed,  then  expired. 


92  THE  GENUINE  MAN. 

From  my  view  point  so  high,  then,  perforce,  I  came 

down, 

And  I  mixed  with  the  general  crowd, 
With  the  wise   and    the   subtle,    the   sordid,    the 

throng 

Who  for  ages  to  Mammon  have  bowed; 
And  I  found  here  and  there — but  alas!  they  were 

scarce— 

On  the  sand  of  life's  wave  beaten  shore, 
The  deep  footprints  of  those  who  to  benefit  men 
Have  devoted  time,  talents  and  store. 

They  have  lived    with    an    aim    that   they   never 

forgot— 

E'en  amid  their  own  seasons  of  woe; 
And  that  aim  was  to  brighten  the  dark  spots  of 

life, 

And  to  show  where  the  brighter  ones  glow; 
To  proclaim  to  their  kind  that  each  man   has  a 

place 

That  no  man  but  himself  can  well  fill; 
And  that  duty  neglected,  whate'er  the  excuse, 
To  the  whole  world  can  bring  nought  but  ill. 


THE  GENUINE  MAN. 


93 


Then  the  genuine  man  is  a  man  whom  the  world, 

Be  it  never  so  wicked,  will  own 

Has  a  claim  to  be  honored,  respected  and  loved, 

And  to  occupy  memory's  throne; 

And  his  name  upon  history's  pages  shall  shine 

Like  a  gem  amid  pebbles  or  clay, 

And  the  record  of  deeds  he  accomplished  in  life 

Be  a  chart  to  show  millions  their  way. 


a  Sitlb  jfrom  tbc 


WHERE  the  crystal  streamlet  floweth; 
Where  the  fragrant  briar  groweth, 
And  the  south  wind  gently  bloweth, 

I  would  gladly  stray; 
Where  the  sun  his  glory  lendeth 
To  the  verdant  bough  that  bendeth 
O'er  the  stream  that  onward  tendeth— 
Bask  the  hours  away. 

There,  beneath  a  tree  reclining— 
Heaven  and  earth  around  me  shining- 
Gazing  on  the  silver  lining 

Of  each  passing  cloud; 
Lost  in  blissful  admiration; 
O  the  pleasing  situation! 
Brief,  but  blessed  separation 

From  the  sordid  crowd! 


A  SIGH  FROM  THE  CITY.  95 

There  the  bee  industrious  singeth, 
All  day  long  her  voyage  wingeth 
O'er  the  region  whence  she  bringeth 

Earth's  ambrosial  food; 
There  the  merry  cricket  danceth; 
There  the  fleet-winged  swallow  glanceth 
Midst  the  throng  whose  hum  enhanceth 

Nature's  happy  mood. 

From  the  scenes  arousing  pity; 
From  the  dreary,  smoky  city, 
With  its  unmelodious  ditty, 

Gladly  would  I  stray; 
Where  the  joys  of  earth  are  dearer; 
W'here  the  views  of  heaven  are  clearer, 
And  the  bliss  of  heaven  seems  nearer, 

Bask  the  hours  away. 


Wifce,  Wifce  Sea, 


lei  THERE'S   nought  like  a  trip  on   the  wide, 

wide  sea 
Where  the  sea-birds  rove  and  the  winds  are 

free; 

Where  the  wavelets  dance  o'er  the  boundless  view, 
And  the  sunshine  heightens  their  beauteous  blue; 
Where  the  porpoise  gambols  and  turtles  sleep 
In  the  ceaseless  plash  of  the  sleepless  deep; 
Where  revel  the  hugest  forms  that  be- 
Then  O  for  a  trip  on  the  wide,  wide  sea! 

When  the  turmoils  of  life,  like  a  thorny  load, 
Bewilder  me,  harrass  me,  worry  and  goad; 
When  the  toiling  limbs  and  the  active  brain, 
Or  the  body  distressed  by  wasting  pain, 
Require  a  rest  and  a  bracing  air, 
Let  me  sail  on  thy  bosom,  thou  sea  so  fair: 
For  there's  life  in  thy  fragrance,  and  health  for  me; 
Then  O  for  a  trip  on  the  wide,  wide  sea! 


Hovers'  <3oofc  IRigbt. 


E  STOOD  at  the  end  of  the  rustic  street 

Where  the  village  youngsters  nightly  meet; 

But  the  village  youngsters  were  all  abed— 
And  the  moon,  from  the  canopy  overhead, 

Looked  down  on  a  pleasing  sight; 
For  her  hand  was  clasped  in  a  hand  of  mine, 
And  her  eyes  with  the  starting  tears  did  shine, 
And  a  sigh  escaped  her  little  frame; 
It  came  unbidden,  but  still  it  came, 

When  one  of  us  said  "Good  night." 

I  will  not  say  which  of  us  said  the  word; 
But  the  other  one  seemed  to  have  never  heard; 
For  our  hands  lost  not  their  impulsive  hold— 
And  the  stars  in  their  nightly  courses  rolled 

Like  diamonds  rare  and  bright; 
WThile  the  dew  came  down  on  the  way-side  grass; 
And  the  lightsome  hours  did  lightly  pass; 


98  THE  LOVERS'  GOOD  NIGHT. 

But  I  still  held  her  hand,  and  she  held  mine- 
Two  hours  before  had  the  clock  struck  nine; 
We  knew  it  and  said  "Good  night." 

But  hands  do  not  always  obey  the  will; 
She  tightened  her  grasp  and  I  held  her  still; 
The  morrow  would  come,  and  the  briny  tide 
With  its  ruthless  billows  would  us  divide; 

And  years,  in  their  lazy  flight, 
Might  deaden  the  love  that  was  now  aflame- 
Such  thoughts,  unbidden,  unwelcomed,  came— 
The  birds  from  their  warbling  mates  might  fly; 
Our  love  for  each  other  should  never  die; 

We  promised,  and  said  "Good  night." 

But  still  my  fingers  were  unreleased; 
The  strength  of  my  hold  on  hers  increased; 
The  language  of  love,  like  a  murmuring  rill, 
Flowed  softly  and  smoothly  on  until 
The  moon  refused  us  her  light; 
A  policeman  passed  on  his  nightly  tour, 
And  the  village  clock  struck  the  midnight  hour, 


THE  LOVERS'  GOOD  NIGHT. 

As  a  chilling  breeze,  like  a  peri's  sigh, 
From  the  gorse  clad  hills  came  sweeping  by- 
We  shivered  and  said  "Good  night." 

As  if  by  elves'  enchantments  chained, 
Our  hands  in  that  mystic  grasp  remained; 
Not  e'en  the  chilling  midnight  breeze, 
Nor  health's  unbending,  stern  decrees 

Could  shorten  our  love's  delight; 
But  time  stays  not  for  lovers'  prayers; 
The  morrow's  woes,  the  morrow's  cares 
Must  each  be  met — we  knew  it  well- 
One  awful  wrench! — we  broke  the  spell; 

We  kissed,  and  we-said  "Good  night." 


99 


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